


The Bathtub

by MsLane



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Faberry, Halloween, Horror, Scary, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8253067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLane/pseuds/MsLane
Summary: Ever since they moved into the apartment that they would be staying in for the duration of her show, Rachel felt uneasy whenever she went into the bathroom. Something about the bathtub bothered Rachel immensely. Maybe it was the dark stains on the porcelain, or more probably it was how the gnarled cast-iron legs of the bath reminded her of the paws of some monstrous, malformed being.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a scary story I've heard about a clawfoot bathtub and the acid bath murderer.

Ever since they moved into the apartment they would be staying in for the duration of her show, Rachel felt uneasy whenever she went into the bathroom. Quinn had been excited about it, had gushed as she told her it was a vintage Victorian clawfoot bathtub, and she was pretty sure Quinn got it at an old, questionable, antique store.

Something about the bathtub bothered Rachel immensely. Maybe it was the dark stains on the porcelain, or more probably it was how the gnarled cast-iron legs of the bath reminded her of the paws of some monstrous, malformed being. Rachel didn’t say anything to Quinn though because really, she’d made some rather questionable purchases herself and Quinn really did like all things vintage.

Santana, her PR manager made a face when she first saw it, and rolled her eyes at Quinn as she passed her. Although Santana is the same age as Rachel, she still treats her as if she’s years younger and needs constant supervision when it comes to her social media. Santana’s biggest hurdle every day is to ensure Rachel does not to tweet something too revealing about ‘top secret projects’.

As a result, Quinn and Santana would argue constantly about everything. Even the slightest thing would spark an argument that would last hours. Rachel couldn’t remember a time when there had been real silence and quiet. Nearly every day, all day long, Quinn and Santana would be at each other’s throats about something or the other.

Whenever the two of them got decidedly heated in their arguing, Rachel would simply leave the room and lays in bed, rolling her eyes at whatever the current spat going on between the two women was. Rachel did feel as if she was losing her mind with all the arguing and bickering.

Though if she was being honest with herself, lately, she’d begun to doubt her sanity more and more for reasons that had nothing to do with the arguing between Quinn and Santana.

Every time she went into the bathroom to take a shower or to even brush her teeth, she would see things out of the corner of her eye. And through it all, reflected in the mirror, she could see the claw foot bathtub behind her.

One time, she even thought she saw blood running down the side of the tub, heard the faucet dripping, but when she turned to look, the taps weren’t running and of course there was no blood. On some other occasion, she was certain she saw some dark and shadowy shape lying in the tub, with its head barely peaking over the side. She’d quickly spun around, her heart racing, barely able to breathe from fear, but the tub was empty.

She mentioned this to Quinn, and she would just gently pull her close and rub her back telling her it was her imagination, the bath tub was perfectly normal.

“Your imagination always did run wild Rach,” Quinn said quietly to her one night, after having been told about the dark shadowy shape in the tub.

“Yes, I suppose…” Rachel responded, not quite sure what she thought Quinn’s response would be like.

“I’ve had my fair share of times in the bathroom baby, and I haven’t, not once, thought I’d seen something.” Quinn continued softly, drawing Rachel closer and rubbing her back.

Rachel just hummed and let herself be held and relaxed against Quinn.

Her feelings towards the bathroom however weren’t appeased. Whenever she undressed and stepped into the bathtub to take a shower, she had the strangest feeling that she was being watched. Even when she would take a shower with Quinn, the feeling remained.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she felt like some being was staring at her naked body, an unwanted gaze. A gaze that sent shivers up and down her spine that made her feel dirty and revolted. A feeling she never got when Quinn would watch her, or look at her.

One night, while she was taking a shower on her own, she dropped the soap and as she bent down to pick it up from the bottom of the tub, she lost her balance and slid backwards. She suddenly felt as if hands were grabbing her and holding her down under the strong spray of the shower.

Terrified she kicked and struggled, eventually freeing herself from the invisible grasp that seemed to clutch tightly at her skin. Spluttering and gasping for air,  and faintly calling out for Quinn, she thought she could her laughter echoing around the bathroom.

Quinn came in having heard her slide, and quickly helped her up, holding her close and checking over her thoroughly, “Are you okay?”

Rachel just cried against her, not caring that she was soaking Quinn’s clothes, only trying to get her closer, terrified about what was happening to her.

It took about a week, but Rachel eventually decided she would pay a visit to the antique store Quinn had purchased the bathtub from. When she asked the owner about it, Rachel could hardly believe her ears as she listened to the story she was being told.

Quinn was right, the old claw foot bathtub did date back to the Victorian era. The owner however continued by saying it had famously belonged to the infamous serial killer named John George Haigh, known as the Acid Bath Murderer.

The antique store owner said that the serial killer would be charming and lure women back home where he would run a bath for them. As they bathed, he would spy on them through a hole he had constructed in the wall. And when they least expected it, he would come in and hold their heads under water, drowning them.

Unable to control the urge, he would then take an axe and chop their bodies up right there in the bathroom, and once satisfied he would drain the blood filled bathwater and fill the tub with sulfuric acid to get rid of them. After a number of women had gone missing, awareness was raised and it got harder for him to keep his identity as a murderer secret.

Rachel was terrified beyond belief. She couldn’t understand why Quinn would purchase such a thing. She had to convince her to get rid of the bathtub.

When she got home, she found Santana sitting alone on the living-room sofa. The television was off, and the apartment was deathly quiet.

“Where’s Quinn?” Rachel asked, slowly approaching Santana, walking towards her uncertainly.

“She’s upstairs taking a bath,” Santana said, “I’ll go tell her you’re home.”

Rachel nodded, going to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, as she tried to think of how best to approach the subject of this bathtub and her terrible feelings towards it without seemingly sounding crazy.

She sat at the kitchen island silently, hardly even breathing as Santana went upstairs. The place was so quiet, it unnerved her. Things were never this quiet. She suddenly heard a series of short sharp clunks coming from upstairs followed by slow, deliberate footsteps that echoed across the ceiling and traveled down the stairs.

Santana appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. Her eyes glazed and she had an odd look on her face. She also had what looked like sprays of blood on her…Rachel’s eyes then fell on the bloody axe Santana was holding.

“Quinn’s finished with her bath,” Santana murmured, her eyes not really seeing in front of her, not sounding like Santana at all, “Now it’s your turn.”


End file.
